Casting dark upon a vacant page
Ghosts appear expressing rage
And mirrored too in grim despair
Troubles loom of which I bear!
Tho’ each thought lay blesséd not,
Yet my demons there are wrought
And shadows shift upon each line,
For alas these torments thus are mine!
Great sorrows many hold my fate,
As for release I yet relate
To restless spirits from the grave;
Alas, I plead on line and stave!
Endowed in mist lairs the beast
That upon my soul doth come to feast,
As upon the wind it wings to flight
Thru the silence, late at night!
The phantoms rise amidst my words
Like tempest flocks of angry birds
That reproach this bitter soul in me;
O’ thus an anguished poet be!
Poetry, Anguish, Depression, Angst